


I'll Be Home for Christmas

by everandanon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brief Misunderstandings, Christmas, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everandanon/pseuds/everandanon
Summary: In which Castiel plans to visit his parents for Christmas and ends up visiting his family, instead - only to have hisfamily'sfamily grossly misunderstand their relationship . . .
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 47
Kudos: 403
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: brief implied homophobia (Cas comes from a religious family; it's not explicitly stated, but he's pan and not out), not-a-complete-dick John Winchester
> 
> A plot bunny got me this afternoon, and this happened. I'm sure it's been done to death, but here it is. Happy holidays if you celebrate, and happy regular days if you don't <3 I hope you're all well, and thank you for reading!

“Why the long face, sweetie?”

Cas turns to the woman who just sat down next to him, startled.

“Uh. Sorry.”

She snorts.

“No point apologizing for being sad. But it’s none of my business, if you don’t wanna share. You look like you could use it, though.”

Cas hesitates.

“I’m alright,” he finally says. “But thank you.”

She nods, and they’re silent a moment, though he senses her watching him.

“Where you headed?” she asks, and he relaxes a little. That’s a much easier question to answer, after all.

“Home. For Christmas.”

“Mm.” She considers this. “Me, too. Well, not my actual house, but I’m headed for my family, which is better. We’re all going to the city this year.”

Cas smiles slightly.

“You sound like you’re looking forward to it.”

She raises her brows.

“Well, of course I am. It’s pretty much the only time we’re all in one place. For a lot of ‘em, it’s the only time I get to see them, period.” She grins. “And I’m lucky, because even though I come from a big family – and trust me, I mean _big_ _–_ none of them are all that crappy.”

He laughs, startled.

“Well, they’re family. Even if they were . . .”

She gives him a sharp look.

“Sure. To a point. But if they’re crappy enough – are they really family?”

He gives her a wry look.

“That’s much easier for you to say, given that yours isn’t.”

“True,” she concedes. “Still. It’s not like we haven’t had rough times. I’ve got six siblings, you know. One time, we all had to share a bathroom.”

“Ah,” he says, wincing. “My apologies.”

She snorts.

“You don’t even know. But the point is, screaming matches and curling iron burns I’m still not convinced were an accident aside – we’re there for each other. We make each other smile through the hard times, and we step up when somebody’s falling down. And come the holidays, we invade our parents’ house and drink too much and take turns babysitting while everyone else plays Cards Against Humanity – and it’s good. I love it.”

His heart tugs a little, at that. Since Anna left, holidays for his family are formal dinners and long silences, interspersed with cool interrogations about what he’s doing at school and what his plans for the future are. His parents will disagree on something, and he’ll get sent to his room for the rest of the night while they privately fight it out (because one must always keep up appearances, even in front of the children, right?) and in the morning, nobody will say a word.

And of course, this year he has a visit to church to look forward to, his parents parading him through their line of acquaintances while he hopes nobody there can tell what he is.

That nobody there will tell his _parents._

“Uh, oh. I’m guessing it’s not all hearts and rainbows, where you’re going?”

Cas blinks, shrugging uncomfortably.

“They’re my parents. It is what it is.”

“Huh. I’m sorry,” she says. “No offense.”

“None taken. Honestly, I – I wish–” he pauses, embarrassed. “My roommate. He invited me to spend the holidays with him, but . . . it’s Christmas. I should go home.”

_Come on, Cas. Based on what you’ve said, I’m afraid I’m not gonna get you back in one piece._

_Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Of course you will._

_Your body, maybe, but what about your_ soul?

Cas had rolled his eyes, assuming the offer to be largely made out of pity, but he’s been dreading this trip since he booked his flight. Even though he knows it’s wrong, a big part of him wishes he were with Dean, instead.

Of course, he _always_ wishes he were with Dean.

“Yeah,” she says slowly. “You should. But, I mean. What is home, really?”

He frowns.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess . . . look, I’m not religious. I don’t know shit about God or Jesus or anything like that, and honestly, I don’t really care what we’re supposed to be celebrating. What I do know is that, whether it’s the stars or the government holidays that align, when you get the chance to be with your family, you take it. And whether that’s your parents and your siblings, or your lover or your kids, or your friends – even if it’s your cats or dogs or your goddamn roomba – if that’s your family, that’s where you should be.”

He blinks, stunned.

“I don’t have a roomba.”

She laughs and pats his knee.

“But you’ve got a roommate. Sometimes we get lucky with the family we’re born into, but sometimes we don’t. You don’t always owe people just ‘cause they’re your blood. And if you find somebody else to love – sometimes that means even more.”

Her phone rings, then, _I Need A Hero_ echoing briefly through the waiting area before she silences it, and she winks at him.

“I gotta take this. Happy Holidays, sweetie.”

She’s on the phone for a while; Cas glances over anxiously after a bit, afraid it might be bad news, but she has the phone tucked comfortably against her ear, grinning and laughing into it.

Dean had called him from the car, earlier. Cas had told him not to, to just focus on driving, but Dean had done it anyway. He hadn’t even turned off his music, pausing conversation to sing along to his favorite parts; Cas had just listened, smiling into the speaker, something sweet and almost painful gripping his heart.

He doesn’t expect to smile again until the next time Dean calls – and Dean will call, because he promised.

_And if you think you’re losing it, call_ me _. Any time, day or night. Got it?_

Maybe the offer wasn’t _entirely_ pity. Dean comes from a warm, loving home, and he has the kindest heart of anyone Cas has ever met – but they _are_ friends.

He chose _Cas_ to call, to keep him company on the drive. Maybe that, too, was because he was worried, but . . .

He wouldn’t worry _that_ much, if he didn’t really care.

“ _Flight 823 to John F. Kennedy International_ _Airport_ _is now boarding . . .”_

Cas flinches, looking up at the announcement.

Then he looks back down, to the ticket peeking out of his book.

There’s a rustle beside him as the woman returns, nudging his knee with hers.

“You okay?”

He swallows.

“Yes. Thank you. Actually, thank you for everything.” Hands shaking, he tucks the book back in his bag and stands. “Happy holidays, ma’am. I, um. I think I need to rent a car.”

She beams.

“Have a safe trip home, sweetie.”

***

906 Pine Street’s driveway is packed when he gets there, cars bumper to bumper and a clear sign that the Winchester family’s guests won’t be going anywhere for a while.

Given what Dean’s told him about holiday get-togethers, that seems likely.

Fortunately, Cas doesn’t have to worry about parking, having turned the car over at the rental place in town and taken a shuttle, but nor is he sure he’ll be staying. Steeling himself, he walks up the path to the warmly lit porch, and after a brief staring contest with the glittering wreath on the sunny yellow front door, he rings the bell.

There’s silence for a moment, followed by the sound of muffled voices, steadily growing louder. He can’t make out words, but he can make out Dean, tone achingly familiar even in the muddle, and then the chorus fades and there’s just footsteps, coming closer.

Cas closes his eyes, trying to will his heart calm.

They reopen when the door does, a curious smile on Dean’s face. It promptly slips, green eyes going wide.

“Hello, Dean.”

For a moment, Dean simply stares.

“Cas . . .?”

Cas nods.

“S-sorry to, um, drop in like this. In hindsight, I should have called.” He’d been in such a hurry to get started, he’d forgotten, and by the time he remembered, he was afraid to.

Besides. He’d _sort of_ been invited, hadn’t he?

“No, no, you’re okay,” Dean says quickly, stepping back and gesturing him in. “I’m glad to see you.”

Cas follows, clasping his hands together as Dean shuts the door. Dean turns, runs a hand through his hair and gives Cas a searching look.

“Uh. How’d you get here, anyway? Where are you staying?”

Cas hesitates.

“I drove. And can I – can I stay here?” he asks, hands shaking, and Dean looks surprised.

“Well, yeah. Yeah, of course. But – what _are_ you doing here? I thought I dropped you off to catch a plane to New York at the asscrack of dawn. Did I dream that?” he jokes, and Cas tries and fails to smile.

Dean’s humor fades.

“Cas? Is – is everything okay?” His brow creases. “Is _everyone_ okay? Did something ha-”

“I met someone,” Cas blurts out, and Dean recoils, expressions morphing too fast to keep track of, ultimately resolving in blankness. “While I was waiting to board.”

“Okay,” Dean says, eyes flicking away, voice strange. “Did you bring ‘em with you?”

Cas blinks.

“What? No, why would I . . .” He shakes his head. “The – the someone isn’t really important. But they started talking to me, and – they asked where I was heading.” He swallows. “I told them I was going home.”

“I thought you were,” Dean agrees, sounding confused.

“Yes, I was, or I thought I was, but – they could tell I was upset, I think, and they started telling me. About their family.” Cas clears his throat. “The kind of family that mine never was. And they told me – well, they said that I should be with my family.”

Dean stares.

“Okay, yeah? I thought that’s where you were going.”

Cas shakes his head, though he’s starting to feel a little sick, adrenaline wearing off and the nerves he’s kept at bay on the slow, treacherous drive from Kansas beginning to make themselves known; because Dean, kind invitations or not, may not feel the same.

About any of it, though Cas was going to keep the other thing to himself.

“I thought so, too. Because I didn’t understand, before. Before you.” Cas takes a deep breath. “What family is. But I think I do, now, and my family – my family’s not in New York.”

Dean’s shock is nearly palpable, and Cas waits, stomach in his shoes.

“Your family’s not in New York,” Dean repeats, blinking. He licks his lips. “Cas. What are you doing here?”

Cas holds his breath.

“I’m visiting my family for Christmas,” he whispers, and then the rest of that breath is punched right out of him as Dean envelops him in a hug.

“Damn straight you are,” he mutters, squeezing tight, but Cas is grateful for that, grateful for Dean holding him up when the sheer _relief_ coursing through him is enough to make him want to collapse.

“Thank you,” he manages, tears pricking at his eyes, and Dean shakes his head.

“Don’t thank me,” Dean says fiercely. “Don’t you dare. You made my goddamn Christmas, you oblivious son of a bitch.”

Cas has no idea what that means, but Dean’s not letting him go and Cas doesn’t feel like doing so, either, so he simply closes his eyes and melts into him, quietly relishing the warmth of Dean’s neck against his cheek.

There’s a rustle of movement somewhere to the left, and maybe it’s rude, but Cas ignores it.

Someone lets out a relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank God. Does this mean he’ll stop sulking now?”

***

“Well, I’m glad to see you boys worked it out,” John starts, blandly conversational, and beside Cas, Dean freezes. John chuckles, unconcerned, and goes on. “You know he called his mother on Halloween, drunk off his ass and halfway to tears, going, “Mom, mom, I think I wanna marry Cas, what am I s’posed to dooo?””

Mary huffs, and based on John’s ensuing wince, one could reasonably assume she just kicked him under the table.

“John,” she says sternly. “Don’t embarrass him.”

And Cas suspects she’s referring to Dean, but she might as well include Cas in that statement, because he can feel himself turning scarlet.

“Um,” he says, thinking he must have heard wrong, then thinking it was a rather difficult thing to mishear, then deciding that he had to have misunderstood, that Dean was just being whatever it is drunk people are always being, or even that this is an elaborate joke and John simply doesn’t realize he’s dragging Cas down along with De-

Dean shoves his chair back and hastens out of the room, and finally, Cas stops staring at his plate in shock, head turning just in time to see the tense line of Dean’s back as he leaves.

“What? What did I say?” John asks, and Ellen snorts.

“They just got together, dumbass, you can’t be bringin’ up marriage already. You’re lucky he’s just embarrassed. I reckon Jo’d flip the table if I did that to her.”

Cas is halfway out of his chair by the time she’s done talking, and he doesn’t wait to hear anyone’s response. He practically runs out of the room, going in search of Dean, hope and confusion and preemptive disappointment a strange mix in his brain.

He almost misses him, about to dash up the stairs and see if Dean retreated to his room, but as soon as his foot makes contact with the first step, a movement through the family room window catches his eyes. He pivots, slipping on the rug before clumsily righting himself, and makes a beeline for the deck doors.

Dean flinches when Cas pushes one open, hunched over and elbows propped on the railing. He doesn’t turn around.

“Dean?” Cas says gently, slowing as he approaches. His urgency is suddenly replaced by shyness; for the second time that evening, Cas is very aware that he may not get the answer he’s desperately hoping for.

Dean clears his throat, eyes fixed on the snowy black horizon.

“Hey, Cas,” he says quietly. “Uh, sorry about all that. I was – it was a misunderstanding. I was, you know. Making a joke. To my mom. ‘Cause I was drunk and you’d been coddling me, and – and I was drunk, so I thought it was funnier than it was. I didn’t, uh. I didn’t mean it.”

Cas looks down, heart sinking.

That’s fine. It’s about what Cas expected, after all; he already got what he came for here, already had Dean welcome him into his home, confirm that they were _family._

Wanting more, especially with someone like Dean, is just selfish.

“Oh.”

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Dean shifts. “I think people maybe, you know, got the wrong impression. About you being here, and – and us hugging like that, earlier. I’ll let them know.”

Cas nods.

“Okay.”

Dean sniffs.

“You should go back inside. ‘S’cold out here.”

Cas tucks his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“You’ve been out here longer.”

Dean shrugs back.

“Yeah, well, that was really embarrassing.”

Cas stares at the railing, eyes stinging in a much less nice way than they did earlier.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I hope I didn’t ruin things, by coming.”

Dean straightens immediately, at last looking at him.

“No! No, I – I wanted you here. I just – I hope you don’t regret coming, after that.”

Cas doesn’t return his gaze.

“Of course not,” he says. “I wasn’t embarrassed.”

_Until you said it was a joke._

“You . . . weren’t?”

“No. Why would I be?” Cas sighs, turning slightly. Dean looks confused, though Cas finds it hard to believe there’s anyone out there who’d be embarrassed to think Dean might like them. “You’re my best friend for a reason. You have many wonderful qualities, Dean. And, um. Objectively speaking, you’re very handsome. Even if you _did_ want to marry me, I think I’d feel – flattered. Very flattered.”

Dean blinks.

“I’m handsome?”

“Objectively speaking,” Cas amends quickly, lest this devolve into some accidental and untimely confession.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Dean’s shoulders slump.

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean pauses. “You’re, uh. Objectively handsome, too. The - the objective handsomest. Or whatever.”

Cas’s cheeks heat, despite the cold.

“Oh.”

“Objectively,” Dean adds, looking nervous, and Cas nods.

“Still. Thank you.”

Dean nods, rubbing the back of his neck. After an awkward pause, he puts his hands on the railing, looking down.

“I – just to clarify, I wasn’t embarrassed that they thought I was dating you. Obviously, because you’re – uh. Yeah. Just – since we’re not, it – it’s awkward. You know?”

Cas nods. That makes him feel a little better, though if he’s being honest, he still can’t help but be disappointed.

Maybe he came here tonight with more hopes than he realized.

“Yes, I know. I understand, Dean.” Cas hesitates, then reaches over, lightly touching his shoulder. “Let’s go back inside and finish eating.”

After a beat, Dean nods, offering him a small smile.

“Yeah. Okay, Cas.”

***

“So, uh. Just so you all know – Cas and I aren’t dating,” Dean announces once they’ve settled in, a table full of curious eyes on them. Cas does his best to swallow his bitterness.

He’s here; Dean _wants_ him here. It’s basically a Christmas miracle, and he shouldn’t ask for more.

The curiosity turns to confusion.

“Sorry?” Mary queries, eyes flicking to Cas with a frown. “You’re not?”

“Nope,” Dean says hastily. “We’re just friends. So knock it off with – whatever that was.”

Mary frowns harder, and beside her, John does the same.

The table is silent.

Finally, John brings his hand up, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s another tense, uncomfortable moment before he speaks, and when he does so, he looks at Cas.

“So, lemme get this straight. You ditched your flight and your blood family to drive eight hours two days before Christmas to tell my son _he_ was your family, and then you clung to him in my damn foyer for literally ten full minutes, and you’re not gonna _date_ him?”

Dean inhales sharply.

“ _Dad,”_ he chokes out. “What the _hell_?”

John waves a hand, irritated.

“Now, you’re young, kid, and I guess you’re not obligated, and I’m sure we’re happy to have you here, either way, but you can’t go around doing things like that. Dean said you were kinda oblivious, but there’s a limit.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking about interrupting, but she stays silent, unhappy gaze trained on Cas.

He hunches self-consciously. _Everyone_ is looking at him, and _everyone_ looks upset.

“I – I apologize, but – you don’t understand,” he says, a little desperate. “Your son doesn’t want to date me.”

There’s a long silence.

Mary tilts her head, eyes flicking to Dean.

“Dean,” she says, a note of steel in her tone. “What did you do?”

Cas finally looks over; Dean is bright red, misery in his eyes.

“ _Nothing_ ,” he snaps. “You all misunderstood. Let it go, _okay_?”

“Don’t speak to your mother that way,” John interjects sternly. “And if some punk thinks he can come around here and break your heart on Christmas, and the rest of us’ll just stand by and stay quiet-”

“ _Daaad,_ ” Dean says, nearly a whimper, but John ignores him.

“Then he’s got another thing coming.”

Cas stares at Dean, fascinated, heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

“Dean?” he prompts, and Dean winces.

“Shit, Cas, I’m so sorry. I swear to God, they’re not usually this bad-”

“You don’t want to date me,” Cas interrupts. “Right?”

Dean swallows.

“Uh.”

“Right?” Cas presses, conscious of everyone’s eyes on them. “ _Right?”_

“I – I mean. I – well, obviously not,” he grits out, scowling at the table. “’Cause you don’t wanna date me.”

Which makes it sound like-

“I never said that,” Cas says quietly, and Dean freezes, eyes flying to Cas’s.

“Huh?”

“I never said I didn’t want to date you.”

“I – well – no, maybe not, but on the deck just now-”

“On the deck just now, I told you you were wonderful and handsome and I’d be very flattered if you wanted to marry me.”

There’s a series of gasps.

“Dean!” Mary chides, and Dean blanches, eyes round.

“I – I – but he – you said _objectively!_ ”

“Because it’s true.”

“You made it sound like you were being _nice_!”

“I was. But I was also being honest.” Cas hesitates. “Or as honest as I felt like I could.”

Dean blinks.

“What – what does that mean?”

“ _Dean_!” Mary says again, impatient, but Dean’s focus is on Cas, confused green eyes searching.

Cas lifts his shoulders, glancing at his lap.

“It means . . . I would want to date you. If you wanted to date me.”

What feels like the dozenth shocked silence of the evening descends.

In Cas’s peripheral, he sees Dean’s mouth literally fall open.

“Cas,” he eventually says, quiet and strangled. “Can I please speak to you outside?”

Cas nods, setting aside his napkin with shaking hands, still not sure what to expect.

“Of course.”

With a jerky nod, Dean stands, hurrying out toward the deck doors, and Cas follows, a shining sort of terror in him.

He could have completely misunderstood. Dean could demand an explanation, yell at Cas for making it worse, reject both him and his feelings for good. Cas could still lose everything, might regret this night’s foolishness for years to come.

On the other hand, there’s a chance he _didn_ ’t misunderstand. Or if he did, that Dean’s still not upset, or maybe even not _opposed._

In some ways, though, possibility is more frightening than rejection.

He takes in a deep lungful of cold air as they step through the doors, waiting until the door is shut to open his mouth.

“Dean,” he starts, before Dean’s even turned back around. “I just want you to know I don’t expect-”

He doesn’t get the rest of the words out, Dean’s hands fisting in his shirt and yanking him forward. Cas stumbles along, stunned.

Their lips collide.

It’s uncoordinated and rough and messy for a few seconds, Cas in shock, Dean trembling, possibly from the cold, but possibly from – from _this,_ because he’s _kissing_ Cas, presumably because he _wants_ to kiss Cas, and perhaps Cas had some hope, but he still didn’t really think-

Dean’s mouth gentles, but the kiss deepens, his hands moving up to cup Cas’s cheeks. They’re still warm from being inside, and Cas's heart gives a painful thud at the way they feel, touching him, cradling his face like he’s something precious, like nobody ever has before.

“Oh,” Cas utters, breathless, and Dean sniffs, pulling back.

“Expect whatever the hell you want, Cas,” he mumbles, one hand moving to brush at his own eyes. “Just tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“Oh,” Cas says again, at a loss, joy creeping bright and warm throughout his whole body. His own eyes feel damp, not from relief or disappointment or embarrassment, this time, but from a profound sense of _rightness,_ of gratitude, even, at being given this, when he never really expected it. “I – I – Dean, I think I love you.”

Dean makes a strangled noise, and then he surges forward, kissing Cas again.

Cas closes his eyes and kisses back, holding on tight.

Behind Dean, more than half a dozen faces peer through the windows, grins on every single one.

\--- end


End file.
